


this is all i'm asking for

by underwaternow



Series: have yourself a merry little christmas [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Holidays, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 03:47:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13115331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underwaternow/pseuds/underwaternow
Summary: Gabe leads the group in a round of applause, and as he looks at Tyson, red-faced and grinning, Santa hat perched jauntily on his head, he gets an idea.He’s going to woo Tyson with Christmas.or, "how Gabriel Landeskog used the season of Advent to seduce Tyson Barrie"





	this is all i'm asking for

**Author's Note:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE EVE! or, if you don't celebrate christmas, happy saturday and i hope you enjoy this anyway. in the spirit of the season, thank you all so much for reading and leaving kudos and commenting. i'm happy to be here. thank you to britta for reading this over for me and making sure it wasn't too hallmark movie, since that isn't what i was going for, and yes - the title is from all i want for christmas is you.

**December 1**

There’s a group of players who agreed to participate in a gingerbread house building competition, a holiday video for Avs 360, and that’s how Gabe finds himself sitting at a folding table that’s covered in a green paper tablecloth with Tyson, Nate, and Sam Girard, putting together their graham cracker houses as Tyson eats gumdrops and lectures them on gingerbread house structural integrity. Tyson is wearing a red sweater with a gingerbread man on it and a Santa hat, and there’s already icing on his cheek; he looks like a manic Spirit of Christmas. Gabe likes it. It’s festive.

“You have to use a graham cracker on the inside, for support,” Tyson explains to Girard, sneaking another two gumdrops out of the bowl. It’s already half empty, and they’ve barely started. “And then you have to let the icing dry as you add each side of the house, or it’ll be over before you’ve even started.”

“Right,” Girard says, nodding seriously, adding icing to the side of another cracker.

“Oh, and always put the icing on the cracker first,” Tyson says, nodding at him in approval as Girard holds up the graham cracker. “It never works if you try to put the icing on the plate, _Nate_.”

Nate jumps. He has a mass of icing on his paper plate and is trying to line up two crackers on it. As Gabe watches, the crackers cave in sadly.

“See?” Tyson says to Girard, smugly. Nate sighs and reaches for a new paper plate.

-

Gabe thinks his house turns out pretty great. He uses Necco wafers on the roof and a Nutter Butter that he cuts in half for the front door, and there’s a jelly bean walkway. As everyone brings their houses up for judging, Tyson nudges him and says, “That looks awesome.”

“Thanks,” Gabe says. Tyson’s house is perfect. He used icing to make a complicated design on the roof that somehow includes icicles and added M&Ms for detailing, there’s a candy cane fence and coconut shavings as snow, even trees that Gabe has no idea how he made. It’s seriously impressive. “Yours too.”

Tyson grins. “I’m gonna win for sure. I’ve made so many gingerbread houses.” 

Gabe laughs and tries to tamp down the urge to grab Tyson and kiss him; he’s never really been able to be around Tyson without having that urge, but he’s pretty sure it’s been getting worse. Seeing Tyson like this, looking adorable in his Christmas sweater, so excited about a gingerbread house that isn’t even actual gingerbread (seriously, Gabe will be upset about that for awhile. His family in Sweden would be horrified) only confirms it: he has a big, huge, not-really-just-a-crush-anymore crush on Tyson.

After the judges confer, Tyson is declared the clear winner, and accepts his prize of eggnog and one of those massive candy canes with glee. Gabe leads the group in a round of applause, and as he looks at Tyson, red-faced and grinning, Santa hat perched jauntily on his head, he gets an idea.

He’s going to woo Tyson with Christmas.

 

 

**December 2**

Gabe calls Nate for help. This is important, and he’s determined to do it right, and it just seems logical that he bring in reinforcements in the form of Tyson’s best friend.

“Hey, buddy,” Nate says when he picks up. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Hi,” Gabe says. “Are you - is this a good time?”

“Yeah, totally.” Nate sounds distracted, and Gabe is pretty sure he hears video game noises in the background, but he plunges in anyway. It’s already December 2nd; he needs to get moving.

“So - Tyson likes Christmas, right?”

“Sure,” Nate says. “Why?”

Gabe pauses. “Let’s say that someone - this is purely hypothetical - was interested in celebrating Christmas with Tyson as a way to… express their interest in him. Romantically. What should they do?”

The background noise cuts out immediately. “Dude, are you finally making a move?” Nate asks, sounding way more animated than he had up until this point in the conversation.

“I said hypothetically,” Gabe says. All he hears on the other end of the phone is unimpressed silence. “Fine, yes, I’m making a move.”

“Thank God,” Nate says. “It’s about time, seriously.” Gabe tries not to feel indignant; Nate probably has a point. “Okay, first of all, cookies. He really likes iced sugar cookies, and snickerdoodles, and these chocolate mint ones - ”

Gabe gets a pen and some paper while Nate lists cookies that Tyson likes. He goes on for awhile, ends with “oh, and fudge!” while Gabe tries to write fast enough to keep up.

“So we could bake together?” Gabe suggests. He’s not making ten dozen cookies by himself; he likes Tyson a lot, yes, but a man has to have limits.

Thankfully, Nate says, “Yeah, he’d love that.”

“Great.” Gabe writes BAKE TOGETHER in all caps on the top of the page, adds an arrow pointing to the list of cookies. “What else?”

“Well, more practically, he always needs someone to help him do his shopping,” Nate says. “He usually asks me, but if you offered he’d probably be into it.”

Gabe considers that, writes it down. He hates the mall, but he does have his own shopping to do. Besides, Tyson’s worth it.

“If you go to the mall, he’ll want one of those big soft pretzels covered in cinnamon sugar, but don’t let him get one,” Nate adds. “They make him hyper for _hours_.”

Gabe grins to himself and writes NO PRETZELS with three exclamation points. By the time Nate runs out of ideas, he has the page filled and his mind is buzzing with plans.

“Thanks, man,” he tells Nate, meaning it.

“Anytime,” Nate says. “This is great, Gabe, seriously. He’s gonna love it.”

“I just hope it works,” Gabe admits, suddenly feeling self-conscious, a little unsure of himself.

Nate just laughs. “Don’t worry.”

 

 

**December 4**

Gabe texts Tyson around 10 AM, straight to the point. He’s on a mission.

_hey want to go christmas shopping today? I want to get mine done early_

Tyson doesn’t text back for almost half an hour, and Gabe would bet money that he was sleeping when Gabe sent the original message. The reply, when it comes, was almost definitely written as Tyson was still waking up, and Gabe leans against his kitchen counter and grins down at his phone like an idiot.

_sure i hav no idea what i’m gettign anybody. meet u in an hour?_

Gabe texts back the thumbs up emoji and the Christmas tree emoji and goes to finish getting dressed. If he picks out a navy sweater that he knows will bring out his eyes, well, that’s his business.

-

Tyson’s waiting for him in front of the Build A Bear, plaid scarf wrapped around his neck, dodging shoppers and clutching a cup from Starbucks that Gabe absolutely, positively knows is hot chocolate.

“Whip or no whip?” he asks, walking up behind Tyson as he’s taking a sip, and Tyson almost chokes.

“What?”

Gabe points to the cup. “Did you get whipped cream?”

“Oh.” Tyson’s ears get red and Gabe tries not to smirk. “Of course I did. What, do you get your hot cocoa without whipped cream? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s un-American, Gabe.”

“You’re not American, either,” Gabe points out. 

“North America, then,” Tyson retorts. “Which stores do you have to go to?”

Gabe shrugs. “I usually just look for awhile, I don’t have a list.”

“Okay,” Tyson says. “Want to go test the massage chairs at Sharper Image first?” Gabe obviously does, so they do that, and then they wander through Macy’s. Tyson looks at jewelry for his mom but doesn’t like any of it, and Gabe finds a sweater for his dad before they venture back into the mall. It’s 12:45 by now, and even though it’s early December, the line for Santa wraps around the kiosks selling knockoff Broncos gear. 

“I’m hungry,” Tyson says, and Gabe sees the familiar Wetzels Pretzels sign up ahead. 

“Let’s go to Chipotle,” he suggests hastily. Tyson frowns, just a little. “I’ll get you guac,” Gabe coaxes. 

Tyson’s forehead smooths out. “Yeah, okay.”

Gabe tries not to smile too widely.

-

They get serious after lunch, and by three o’clock Gabe has everyone on his list taken care of. Tyson isn’t doing quite as well; he’s found gifts for his dad and his sister, but hasn’t liked anything for his mom. Gabe is hanging back, following him from store to store and letting him do his thing, and he can tell Tyson is getting crabby.

They’re in J. Crew when Gabe finds it: a cashmere blend scarf in a deep purple shade, exactly the color that Dillard’s didn’t have, and he takes it over to Tyson, who’s glaring at the jewelry display, spinning it without really looking at anything.

“Hey. I found this and thought maybe - ?”

Tyson looks at the scarf in Gabe’s hands for a full ten seconds and then exhales loudly. “Yeah, it’s perfect. Wow, I’m glad I have you with me this year, I can never find anything for my mom and Nate usually just stands around and says, ‘Can we go?’ Oh, man, Gabe - ” and he takes the scarf and unfolds it, holding it up. “She’s gonna love this, for sure. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Gabe says, smiling as Tyson tries to refold the scarf, fails horribly, and just takes it to the cash registers wadded up in a ball. The woman who rings him up clearly takes pity on him and wraps it in tissue, puts it in a box for him, and as they leave the store Tyson looks about one hundred times more cheerful. 

“Thanks again, Gabe,” Tyson says, when they’re back at Build A Bear, getting ready to go their separate ways. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Oh,” Gabe says, waving his hand like it was nothing. “You would’ve found it without me.”

“Maybe,” Tyson says. He rubs the side of his nose. “My mom’ll love it. I’ll tell her you helped me find it, she’ll like it even more.”

“Great,” Gabe says, smiling. The idea of Tyson’s mom knowing he helped Tyson pick out her Christmas present feels totally normal and isn’t inspiring an emotional reaction in him at all. 

“This was fun,” Tyson says, smiling back. 

“Yeah, it was,” Gabe says, and then before he can think about it too much, he gives Tyson a one-armed hug. “Have a good one, Tys.”

“You too,” Tyson says, blinking at him curiously as Gabe pulls away. “I - see you tomorrow.”

Gabe lifts his hand in a wave and heads out, a smile threatening to overtake his face. A successful shopping trip in more ways than one. 

 

 

**December 15**

It’s the day of the annual Christmas party, which is always a good time, and Gabe is more excited than usual for this year’s festivities. He digs a Santa hat out of one of the boxes of Christmas decorations in his garage, dons his very best ugly sweater - it has floating reindeer heads all over it. It’s truly hideous. He’s pretty proud of it - and heads out.

When he gets there, one of the last to arrive, he finds Nate and Tyson by the food. They’re already into the spiked eggnog; Tyson gives him a tipsy hug hello and Gabe can smell it on his breath. 

“Hey,” Gabe says. “Did I miss anything fun?”

“EJ commandeered the karaoke machine and won’t do any Christmas songs,” Nate tells him. Gabe glances over at the karaoke setup; there’s a multicolored spinning light and two microphone stands that EJ is indeed hogging, a small group watching him, looking resigned. He’s in the middle of a rendition of “Baby One More Time” that’s actually pretty good.

“He’ll get bored eventually,” Gabe says, and takes the cup of eggnog Tyson is offering him. “Thanks, Tys. Nice sweater.”

“Thanks!” Tyson says brightly. He’s wearing a green sweater with trees and snowflakes in a fairisle pattern, and the sweater has actual Christmas lights in it, wound around both arms and Tyson’s torso. “I can make the lights flash if I want.” He presses on the sweater near his hip and the lights, as promised, start blinking.

“Are you flashing me?” Gabe asks, raising his eyebrows. Nate groans and just walks away without saying anything. Tyson, about to take a sip of eggnog, blinks at him over the rim of his glass and then lowers it slowly, smile turning smug.

“Yeah. What’d you think?”

“Do it again,” Gabe tells him, smirking back at him. Without breaking eye contact, Tyson turns the lights from blinking to not blinking and then back to blinking. “I like it,” Gabe says, voice suddenly pitched much lower than normal. He can see Tyson swallow. 

“Gabe!” Mikko says loudly, suddenly appearing out of nowhere and crashing into Gabe’s side. “You made it!”

“Hey,” Gabe says, as Tyson looks away, face flushed, blinking rapidly and gulping his drink. “How’s it going?”

“EJ won’t do any Christmas songs,” Mikko tells him, breath smelling of alcohol too. How is Gabe’s entire team drunk already? He swears he wasn’t late getting here.

“All right, we’re putting a stop to his reign of terror,” Gabe replies, finishing off his eggnog. “Let’s go, Rants, you want to do Jingle Bells first or what?”

“Walkin’ In A Winter Wonderland,” Mikko says promptly. That’s… specific. Still, Gabe shrugs in agreement, drops his cup in the trash and heads over to the karaoke machine. He successfully makes EJ hand the microphones over, lets Mikko talk him into making Walkin’ In A Winter Wonderland a duet, and only notices once they finish the song - to raucous applause, thank you very much - that Tyson disappeared. It’s totally fine. Gabe will catch up with him later.

-

Later finds Gabe much drunker, sitting at a table eating meatballs. He’d been talking to Kerfy, who just got up for a refill, and now Gabe is by himself, methodically cutting each meatball in half with his fork before he eats it. He’s enjoying the party, likes having a quiet moment to sit and take it in. EJ is back in control of the karaoke machine, but he’s doing Christmas songs now, and there’s a good crowd watching and heckling as he croons his way through “Blue Christmas,” complete with some truly horrifying hip swivels.

“Hi,” Nate says, pulling out the chair next to him a little unsteadily. Gabe can tell he’s very drunk. “Hi, Gabe.”

“Hey,” Gabe mumbles through a meatball. “You having fun?”

“Yeah, it’s the best,” Nate says. “Tyson is over there.” He points vaguely toward the karaoke. “He wants to sing.”

“Good luck with that,” Gabe says, watching EJ finish the song with a flourish. What a show-off. Gabe claps anyway, grinning as someone in the group watching - he thinks maybe Yak - yells, “Yeah, Johnson, take it off!” EJ pretends to start taking off his sweater, grinning and offering a middle finger when someone else starts booing. 

“So,” Nate starts, when Gabe looks back at his plate and spears another meatball half. “How’s your, y’know, Christmas seduction going?”

“It’s not - Jesus,” Gabe says, laughing, because calling it a _Christmas seduction_ makes it sound absurd, but that’s not inaccurate either. “It’s good. I think.”

“He likes you,” Nate slurs. “I like you, too, man, this is just - it’s really good. You two.”

“Yeah?” Gabe asks, chest warm and happy. Nate’s such a good guy and Gabe knows how much he and Tyson love each other, and, just, Nate’s approval - his _blessing_ , really - feels very important. 

“Yeah,” Nate says, emphatically, leaning forward and grabbing Gabe’s arm. “Really. ‘m really happy, man, like…” He pauses, considers something very seriously. “You and me, we’ll be like brothers.”

“Yeah,” Gabe agrees without thinking about it. “Wait, Nate… you and Tyson aren’t related.”

“We kind of are, though,” Nate says, sagely and drunkenly, sitting back in his chair. “Like. Think about it.” Gabe chews on a meatball and considers it. “I’ll come to your house for every holiday,” Nate continues. “That’s family.”

“That _is_ family,” Gabe agrees. 

“See!” Nate says, emotionally. “We’re gonna be brothers, man. C’mere.” He leans forward, arms open, and Gabe leans into him sideways and they hug. Nate pats his shoulder.

“What’re you two doing,” Tyson says, from somewhere above them.

“Hugging,” Gabe says, straightening up and finishing the last meatball on his plate. “Hi, Tys.”

“Hi,” Tyson says, sitting down in the chair on Gabe’s other side and spilling a little of his eggnog onto the table. “Hi, Nate. Why do you look so weird?” Gabe turns to look at Nate, who’s looking at them with this misty expression on his face, smiling. Gabe kicks at him under the table.

“I don’t,” Nate says, still smiling. “I just love Christmas.”

“Okay,” Tyson says, skeptically, giving Gabe a look like _can you believe this weirdo?_

Gabe grins at them both. His chest feels very full. 

 

 

**December 17**

Gabe invites Nate and Tyson over for a cookie-baking party, and texts Nate strict instructions to make up a reason to leave after 40 minutes. Nate texts him back almost immediately.

_what am i supposed to say dude_

Gabe sighs. He has to do everything.

_literally anything. your mom needs you, your dog needs you, you need to go to see a guy about a thing_

Nate sends back the eye- rolling emoji. Rude. Gabe is setting out the various sprinkles he bought when his phone lights up with a second text.

_ok ok dont worry, i got you. bring on the romance!_

-

Tyson and Nate show up around 5:30; Tyson, of course, has his Santa hat on, and when Gabe opens the door he holds up a cluster of bells and jingles them loudly. 

“Merry Christmas, Gabe!” 

“I told him to leave the bells in the car,” Nate says, shooting Gabe a long-suffering look that Gabe is relatively sure is all for show. 

“It’s festive,” Gabe says, standing back to let them in. 

“Yeah, Nate,” Tyson says, toeing off his shoes and turning around to shake the bells in Nate’s face. Nate dodges out of the way, slaps at Tyson’s hand. “It’s festive. Gabe says so.”

Gabe tries not to smile too widely as they head into the kitchen. “So, I got stuff to make sugar cookies, and the ones that are peanut butter with Hershey’s Kisses, and we could even do chocolate peppermint fudge, if you guys want. I just got a bunch of different things.” He gestures at the ingredients spread out across his entire kitchen and shrugs. “I think the lady at the grocery store thought I was out of my mind.”

“I _love_ fudge,” Tyson says, incredibly seriously. “Gabe, we have to make the fudge.”

Behind Tyson’s back, Nate shoots Gabe a thumbs up. 

Gabe digs out all of his pans and Tyson stands at the stove, frowning at the fudge recipe and watching as the chocolate melts, and Nate sits at the table and starts rolling out sugar cookie dough. Gabe preheats the oven, hovers for a minute, and then sits down at the counter and pulls out his phone.

“Should we order pizza?”

“Yes,” Tyson says immediately. “Uh, I think this is burning.”

Gabe leans over and takes a look. He doesn’t see any evidence of burning, but it does smell suspect. “Maybe turn down the heat,” he suggests. “Isn’t putting it in the bowl above the boiling water supposed to keep it from burning?”

“What, like I know?” Tyson says, jabbing at the control panel for the stove. “Gabe, do you think I know anything about cooking?”

“You live alone and manage to feed yourself,” Gabe points out.

“He eats a lot of Chipotle,” Nate says from over at the table.

Tyson points at him. “Shut up. I know how to, like, make myself dinner. Pasta or a sandwich or whatever. I don’t know how to bake.”

Gabe checks Google. “Just turn down the heat. I guess the water isn’t actually supposed to boil all the way.”

“The recipe says to put the bowl above a pot of boiling water!” Tyson says, turning down the heat anyway. “Are you lying to me?”

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “This is all so I can watch you struggle.” Behind them, Nate snorts loudly. Gabe runs his hand over the back of his head and flips him off.

“I knew it,” Tyson says, stirring the chocolate. He glances up at Gabe a second later and grins, tongue poking through his teeth. Gabe smiles back, watches Tyson move around his kitchen while muttering to himself about the next steps in the recipe, and eventually has to force himself to look away and order pizza on his phone. 

-

It’s 6:15 and Gabe is sitting at the table with Nate, cutting out reindeer-shaped sugar cookies while Tyson swears at the pan on the stove, when Nate’s phone beeps.

“Oh, crap,” Nate says, jumping to his feet without even looking at his phone. “I, uh, have to go.”

“Go where?” Tyson asks, narrowing his eyes at Nate.

“I have to, um. Meet a guy - Craigslist,” Nate blurts. Jesus. Gabe should’ve considered how spectacularly unsubtle Nate is when he was formulating this plan, seriously. “I’ll come back later and pick you up,” Nate adds, already halfway down the hall. “Unless Gabe can - ?”

Gabe retracts his previous thought. He loves Nate. Nate is an angel. “Yeah, totally, don’t worry about it, man. I’ll take you home, Tys,” he adds, directing the second part at Tyson, who is standing at the stove, hands on his hips, looking skeptical.

“Bye!” Nate yelps, and then he’s out the door.

Gabe turns to look at Tyson. “I guess it’s just us.”

“Did you tell him to leave?” Tyson asks, glancing at the chocolate mixture and then back at Gabe.

“And deprive Nate of the chance to watch you try to make fudge?” Gabe teases. “Why would I do that?”

“I - ” Tyson reaches for the pan that he already lined with waxed paper. “Never mind. I just thought maybe - never mind.”

“This is okay, though, right?” Gabe asks.

“Of course it is,” Tyson says, concentrating on pouring the chocolate into the pan. “Don’t be stupid, what, you think I’m gonna run screaming from your house if I have to hang out with you alone?”

“I mean, I hope not,” Gabe says, leaning against the counter and grinning. “I’d be kinda worried if you did.”

Tyson huffs out a laugh, scrapes out the bowl and checks the recipe again before carefully moving the pan of fudge to the fridge. Gabe watches, lets himself track Tyson’s every move, and when Tyson closes the fridge and turns around, Gabe doesn’t bother trying to hide it. 

“Hi,” Tyson says. His cheeks are flushed. It’s probably from standing at the stove, Gabe decides.

“Hi,” Gabe says, wets his lips. “What do you wanna do now?”

Tyson’s face, he’s quite sure, flushes deeper red. “I - um. Gabe.”

“Yeah?” Gabe says. His voice sounds rougher than usual.

Tyson clears his throat. Neither of them has blinked in what feels like an eternity; Gabe realizes he’s holding his breath. “I - I think whatever’s in the oven is burning.”

“Wh - oh,” Gabe says, and grabs for an oven mitt. They end up having to trash a batch of the sugar cookies, but Gabe planned for that to happen at least once, so he gets another tray in the oven before the pizza shows up. Tyson settles himself at the table with a piece of pizza and reaches for the decorating supplies, and Gabe digs through the fridge for beer. 

“You want a beer, Tys?” he asks, holding one out. Tyson gives him a look. “You want…” Gabe glances back into the fridge. “A wine cooler? I don’t know how long that’s been in here. Or a Coke.”

“I’ll drink the wine cooler,” Tyson says, because of course he does. “I mean, I guess I can take that off your hands.”

“Thanks,” Gabe says dryly, joining him at the table. “So selfless, man, really.”

Tyson snorts out a laugh and takes the proffered wine cooler, his eyes bright. “Yeah, I’m like a beverage Gandhi.”

“A beverage - Jesus Christ.” Gabe shakes his head, in awe of how bizarre and perfect Tyson is. He can’t believe how much he likes him. Tyson is laughing around his pizza, watching as Gabe has an internal crisis, and Gabe just wants to lean across the table and kiss him. He resists, though. He has a plan.

-

They decorate sugar cookies until almost 9, Tyson coming up with more and more elaborate designs that mostly involve piling on multiple layers of frosting and sprinkles, and then they dump all the dirty dishes into the sink to be tomorrow’s problem and go into Gabe’s living room to watch a movie. Tyson stretches out across the couch and when Gabe sits down, Tyson puts his feet in Gabe’s lap.

Gabe gives him a look.

“What? It’s more comfortable,” Tyson says, stealing the remote off the coffee table and starting to flip through the movies on demand. 

“For you!” Gabe says, even as he’s tentatively settling his hand on Tyson’s ankle.

“Yeah, for me,” Tyson says, and Gabe can tell he’s going for flippant but his voice is slightly hoarse. “What do you want to watch?”

“Anything’s fine,” Gabe says, glancing over at Tyson and squeezing his ankle a little. Tyson blinks rapidly, swallows.

“Okay. Um.” Tyson scrolls for a minute; Gabe shamelessly watches his hands. “Did you see the new Star Wars?”

“No Star Wars.” Gabe wrinkles up his nose. “I can’t do it.”

“You - I swear to God, Gabe,” Tyson says, exasperated. “There’s something wrong with you.” 

“That isn’t nice,” Gabe informs him.

“Who doesn’t like Star Wars?” Tyson demands. Gabe has to fight the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth; it’s just that Tyson always looks so cute when he’s mad, and right now Tyson is glaring at him. His hair is all messed up now that he’s finally taken off the Santa hat. It’s endearing. This is how Gabe knows he’s a total goner.

“Me,” Gabe says. “Keep looking.”

“Okay, just, maybe don’t say anything’s fine if you’re going to be so picky,” Tyson mutters under his breath. 

“I heard that,” Gabe says mildly. Tyson glares at him again. 

They settle on the new Spider-Man movie, and Gabe tunes it out pretty quickly. It’s not bad, but Tyson’s feet are still in his lap, the weight of his legs heavy and warm, and that’s a lot more interesting. Gabe watches Tyson for awhile instead of the movie; he’s focused on it, watching intently even though Gabe knows he’s seen it already. Tyson is leaning against the arm of the couch, one hand tucked behind his head and the other resting on his chest; his head is turned toward the TV, his neck exposed. Gabe wants to wreck him.

An hour in, Gabe literally cannot stand it anymore, and very slowly he drags his thumb over Tyson’s ankle, over the bare skin just above the edge of his sock. Tyson’s entire body tenses; Gabe can see his lips part slightly. He looks back at the TV, pretends to be engrossed in the movie and does it again. This time he can hear Tyson take a breath. 

All Gabe can think about are his fingers on Tyson’s ankle, each point of contact feeling like it’s burning, and when he moves his thumb for the third time Tyson shifts his foot, drags his heel over the inside of Gabe’s thigh. Gabe inhales sharply through his nose. When he chances a glance at Tyson, Tyson is looking back at him, eyes half-lidded and dark. Gabe swallows.

“Um,” Tyson says, his voice even hoarser now than before. 

“I,” Gabe starts, and then his fucking phone rings. Tyson yanks his feet off Gabe’s lap and throws himself over to his side of the couch, like whoever’s calling can see into Gabe’s living room, and the moment is gone. Gabe curses inwardly and fumbles for his phone, silences it without really paying attention to who’s calling and tosses it onto the couch next to him. 

“Sorry,” he says awkwardly into the mostly-silent room. 

“It’s cool,” Tyson says, his voice still strained and raspy. “You didn’t want to answer?”

“I’ll call ‘em back later,” Gabe says. _I want to fuck you into this couch_ , he doesn’t say, just takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. They finish the movie, change the channel to football highlights and cut up the fudge, which turned out really good. He tells Tyson as much and Tyson turns red, pleased.

Around midnight, Gabe yawns and stretches. “You want a ride home? Or you can crash on the couch, if you want.”

“I can Uber,” Tyson says, and before Gabe can protest he’s got his phone out. “This was really fun, Gabe, thanks.”

“It _was_ fun,” Gabe says, smiling. 

Tyson grins back, then pauses. “Can I take the rest of the fudge?”

Gabe rolls his eyes, tries not to smile even more widely. “You made it, of course you can. Here.” He finds paper plates, loads one up with the fudge and a bunch of the cookies, covers it in foil and passes it to Tyson. Their fingers brush.

Tyson gives him a hug at the door, lingering slightly longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Gabe,” he says, finally stepping away and onto the porch. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “G’night.” He watches Tyson jog down the driveway and get in the waiting car, shuts the door and sets the alarm system and turns off the porch light, and then he leans back against the door and just breathes.

 

 

**December 20**

The last thing Gabe has planned is to invite Tyson to go with him to the Christmas market downtown; it was Nate’s idea, and when he quietly asked around the locker room, Z told him that he’d taken his wife and baby and they’d had fun, so that was enough for Gabe. He texted Tyson a few days ago and suggested it, and they made plans for tonight. But now - it feels like a date, is the thing, and it’s supposed to but it’s still making him nervous. He combs his hair four different times and changes his sweater twice and drives over to pick up Tyson, palms sweating just a little.

He pulls into Tyson’s driveway and gets out of the car, intending to go up and knock, but as he does the front door opens and Tyson comes outside. He’s wearing his usual plaid scarf, wool coat unbuttoned to show the same red gingerbread man sweater he wore to the gingerbread house building competition, and Gabe’s breath gets caught in his throat. Tyson looks so good, and Gabe wants to kiss him so badly, gets caught up for a few seconds thinking about it, about how much he wishes he could just lean in and kiss Tyson hello, hand on his cheek.

“Are you in there?” Tyson is saying, now standing in front of him, forehead creased up in a frown. “Gabe. Hello. Are you having a stroke?”

“Of course I’m not having a stroke,” Gabe says, pulling himself out of a reverie about leaning his forehead against Tyson’s after kissing him. “Hi. You look nice.”

Tyson blinks. “Thanks. Um. You too?”

“What, are you not sure?” Gabe jokes, smirking as he unlocks the car, opens his door.

Tyson mutters something as he walks around the car; it sounds like “no, I’m definitely sure,” and Gabe grins to himself, starts the car.

They make it downtown in good time, and luck must be on Gabe’s side, because he finds a parking spot easily. A good omen, he decides, as they get out of the car and start wandering toward the market. Gabe can hear carols. The first booth they see is an older couple selling roasted chestnuts, roasted right there on a firepit; they have an ancient radio playing Bing Crosby. Tyson stops in his tracks.

“Gabe. I need some of those nuts.”

“Not the first time in your life you’ve said that,” Gabe says, digging in his pocket for cash as Tyson’s face goes red.

“Shut up. You know what I meant.”

“Yeah,” Gabe says, handing the woman at the booth a $5 and smiling in thanks as she hands him a brown paper bag and his change. “Sure I did.”

“I hate you,” Tyson tells him, and takes the bag of chestnuts right out of his hands. “I’m not sharing these.”

“You better, I paid for them,” Gabe says, reaching over to snag a few and almost spilling them all as Tyson jerks out of his reach. “Don’t make me mess up your hair.” He laughs when Tyson immediately holds out the bag begrudgingly, takes a few more, and they continue along the row of booths that are selling food and handmade ornaments and pine wreaths. Gabe lets Tyson lead, walks close to him, lets their hands almost brush. It’s nice.

It’s also frigidly cold, and after two hours, when they’ve done the full loop of the market, watched a choir in full period costumes perform “I’ll Be Home For Christmas,” and are standing by the ice rink, watching teenagers and families with toddlers and some older couples do slow loops, Gabe is ready to either go someplace slightly warmer or huddle together for warmth. Or -

“You want to skate?” he asks Tyson.

Tyson shrugs. “Not really. It’s just - ” He takes a breath, exhales in a puff of white. Gabe watches it dissipate. “Sometimes it just feels like work, you know?”

Gabe nods, turns toward Tyson a little and studies his profile. “Yeah.”

“Not that I hate it, or anything,” Tyson says. “I love hockey. It’s, you know, the best thing that ever happened to me.” He glances at Gabe as he says it and Gabe’s chest feels tight. “But it’s nice to just… stand here with you and watch.”

Gabe smiles at him, and Tyson smiles back, and they stand there looking at each other until Gabe has to clear his throat, look away before emotion overcomes him.

“Which of these kids do you think is a future number one draft pick?” he asks, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Tyson give him a look like he knows exactly what Gabe is doing. Tyson humors him, though, scans the crowd for contenders.

“That one,” Tyson says after a minute, pointing to a little girl who’s in hockey skates and is skating along the edge of the rink from one end to the other, rather than going in a circle like everyone else. She’s maybe 7, and her face is set in determination, and Gabe can tell she’s skating as fast as she can. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, and they watch her for a few minutes before Gabe is really, truly too cold. He glances over at Tyson. “Are you cold?”

“I’m from Canada,” Tyson tells him. Gabe almost rolls his eyes. “I never get cold.”

“You are from Victoria,” Gabe says, because seriously, Tyson is such a liar. Gabe can tell he’s cold.

“It gets cold in Victoria!” Tyson says indignantly. 

“Yeah, a whole 4 degrees Celsius,” Gabe says. “Come on. Let’s go to a diner and get fries and hot chocolate.”

-

Tyson is quiet on the drive back to his house, and when Gabe pulls into his driveway, he just stays there, still in the passenger seat. Gabe waits patiently, and after a few minutes, Tyson clears his throat.

“It’s funny,” Tyson starts, still looking straight ahead, out the windshield. “But I’ve wanted to go to that every year since I moved here, never got the chance. I mentioned it to Nate maybe a month ago and said that this year I was going for sure.”

“Oh, yeah?” Gabe says, as nonchalantly as he can manage.

“Gabe,” Tyson says softly, finally looking over at him. Gabe swallows. “Was this a date?”

“Maybe,” Gabe manages to get out.

Tyson considers this, looks at him without saying anything for what feels like an eternity. Then he smiles, just a little. “You made this Christmas really special, you know that?”

“I’m glad,” Gabe says. “It - for me too, Tys.”

Tyson smiles bigger, ducks his head a little. Even in the dark of the car, Gabe can tell his face is red. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gabe,” he says. “I had a really good time. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Gabe says, smiling back at him. “I did too.”

Tyson goes to open the car door, pauses, and then suddenly he’s leaning in and kissing Gabe’s cheek, blushing furiously when he pulls away and fumbling with the door handle because he’s not looking at it. “Bye,” he says, once he manages to get it.

“Goodnight,” Gabe says. His cheek where Tyson kissed him is hot. 

 

 

**December 24**

It’s Christmas Eve, and it all comes down to this. Gabe is relatively sure he’s not going to get shot down, but his nerves are still jangling as he drives to Tyson’s. When he gets out of the car and carefully plucks the sprig of mistletoe off the passenger seat, he can’t help but laugh at himself a little. This is - well, it’s silly, he knows that, but it’s for Tyson. Gabe would do just about anything.

He carefully tapes the mistletoe above Tyson’s front door, takes a deep breath, and knocks. It takes a few minutes for Tyson to get to the door, during which Gabe starts to panic that he’s not home, even though he texted Tyson literally an hour ago, under the guise of wishing him a merry Christmas, to make sure he was home. Still. Sudden DQ cravings are always a possibility. But then he sees the hall light come on, and the front door opens, and there’s Tyson, looking warm and soft in sweatpants and a long-sleeve tee.

“Hey,” Tyson says, face lighting up when he sees Gabe. “What’s up?”

“Hi,” Gabe says. He feels briefly, strangely shy. “Um, I - ” and he shrugs, just a little, and points at the mistletoe. Tyson glances up. Gabe can pinpoint the exact second he realizes what’s happening, because he immediately starts fighting a smile.

“Did you come all the way over here to tape mistletoe above my front door?” Tyson asks him, leaning against the doorframe.

“Wow, no,” Gabe says, widening his eyes. “I didn’t put that there.”

“Uh huh,” Tyson says. He’s not bothering to fight his smile anymore. “It just grew there, then.”

“Guess so,” Gabe says, stepping closer. Tyson looks up at him, eyes dark, and licks his lips. “Weird.”

“Yeah,” Tyson says. “So are you gonna - ” 

Gabe leans in the last few inches and kisses him, bringing up a hand to cup Tyson’s cheek, and Tyson immediately wraps both arms around Gabe’s neck and kisses him back with enthusiasm. Gabe feels like he’s floating.

“Come in the house,” Tyson says after a minute, pulling back, lips red. “Jesus. Do you want the neighbors to see or what?”

Gabe just grins at him, pushes gently at his shoulders until Tyson lets go of him and backs up enough to actually let him come in the house. Gabe responsibly shuts and locks the front door behind him, takes off his shoes and coat, and he’s pretty sure Tyson is rolling his eyes. 

“You’re such a nerd,” Tyson tells him fondly, pushing into his space as soon as Gabe lines up his shoes next to Tyson’s sneakers and turns to look at him. Their chests are brushing, and Gabe’s fingers are almost itching with how much he wants to touch. He doesn’t even know where to start. Tyson mutters something about mistletoe, his voice all bratty, and leans up and kisses Gabe again. 

This time Tyson’s mouth is hot and wet; he tangles his fingers into Gabe’s hair, and Gabe slides both hands under Tyson’s shirt and grips his hips. They’re both breathing heavily already and all they’ve done is kiss twice standing in Tyson’s front hallway. Gabe is pretty sure that, no matter what happens, he’s done for.

“Upstairs,” Tyson gasps after a minute, pressing his hips into Gabe’s, making Gabe hiss. “Jesus, Gabe, let’s go.”

“You’re so demanding,” Gabe says, and Tyson just gives him a look, grabs his hand and drags him up the stairs. Halfway up, Gabe smacks his ass, and Tyson stops right there and shoves him up against the wall and kisses him thoroughly, grinds against his thigh until Gabe makes him stop. 

“I don’t want to fall down the stairs and die before we get a chance to do this,” Gabe tells him, trying to catch his breath. Tyson is red-faced and his hair is totally fucked up and his lips are swollen, and he’s the best thing Gabe has ever seen.

“Maybe if you hadn’t wasted so much time being all romantic,” Tyson says, but he continues up the stairs, dragging Gabe with him. 

“Fuck you,” Gabe says. “You liked it.”

Once they’re in his bedroom, Tyson grins at him, eyes bright. “Yeah, I did.” Gabe kisses him again, lips buzzing, and steps back to pull off his shirt. When he drops it on the floor and looks at Tyson, Tyson is staring, lips parted. He reaches out and touches Gabe’s abs.

“Yours too,” Gabe tells him. He tries not to sound impatient but he’s so fucking impatient. Tyson shrugs out of his shirt, kicks off his sweats, and now Gabe is the one staring. Tyson is flushed down his chest, nipples hard, dick on its way there too, and Gabe wants to get his mouth everywhere. 

“Fuck,” he says, and doesn’t miss the way Tyson ducks his head, smiling to himself, as Gabe starts fumbling with his jeans, kicks them off as fast as possible and drags Tyson down onto the bed with him. “You’re so hot, what the hell.”

“Shut up,” Tyson says, biting at Gabe’s collarbone, dragging his mouth over the delicate skin of Gabe’s neck and making him feel like it’s on fire. “You are.” Gabe just laughs, the noise swallowed up as Tyson kisses him again, and runs his hands over the smooth expanse of Tyson’s back. Tyson shivers against him.

“What do you want?” Gabe asks, voice rough, when Tyson starts grinding against his thigh again. If that’s what he wants, Gabe is more than happy to oblige, but if it’s not he figures they better not go too far down that road. 

Tyson kisses his neck one more time and lifts his head up, then hesitates.

“Anything,” Gabe tells him, desperate to make sure Tyson knows how much he means it.

“I - can I fuck you?” Tyson asks, not quite meeting Gabe’s eyes as he says it. Gabe sucks in a breath, heat curling in his stomach, and Tyson flicks his eyes up to meet Gabe’s, looking hopeful. 

“Jesus Christ, _yes_ ,” Gabe gets out in a rush. “Holy shit, Tys, I’m - yes.”

Tyson grins a little, kisses him again and stretches across Gabe’s chest to open the drawer of his nightstand. He fishes out lube and a condom without missing a beat and drops them on the bed. 

“Knew exactly where those were, I guess,” Gabe mumbles against his mouth.

“It’s a small drawer,” Tyson says, and bites his lip. “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Gabe says. “Get on with it, I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“You’re bossy,” Tyson comments, sitting up and reaching for the lube, pouring some out and slicking up his fingers. “Move, c’mon, I need to - yeah.” Gabe sucks in his breath when Tyson touches him: he’s tentative at first, careful and slow, and Gabe is burning up from the inside. When Tyson presses a finger into him, Gabe throws his head back on the pillow, curses and bites his lip and grabs for whatever part of Tyson he can reach, strokes his fingers over Tyson’s thigh and squirms.

“Fuck,” he says. “More, hurry up.”

“Oh my God, relax,” Tyson says, adding a second finger, curling them carefully. Gabe sees stars. “Here I am, trying to take my time and make it good for you, and all you can do is - ”

“It’s good,” Gabe cuts him off, not wanting Tyson to think for one second that he isn’t half out of his mind with how good it is. “Tys.”

“I know,” Tyson says, meeting his eyes. “You - fuck, Gabe, you’re so hot.”

Gabe just groans, lifts his hips up a little and squirms again and gets Tyson to add a third finger. As soon as his body adjusts to the stretch, he fumbles around for the condom and tosses it at Tyson. “I’m ready, come on.”

“Only since you asked so nicely,” Tyson mutters, ripping open the condom wrapper and holding his dick still at the base to roll it on. Gabe smirks at him, and then abruptly stops when Tyson leans up, braces himself against the mattress and sinks into him, bottoming out and taking a huge, shaky breath.

“Fuck,” Gabe says, voice cracking. Tyson lifts his head and kisses him and starts to move, and if it was good before Gabe doesn’t have words for it now. His entire body feels like it’s on fire.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, groaning. “Shit, you - ” He breaks off mid-sentence, squeezing his eyes shut when Gabe wraps an arm around Tyson’s waist and drives his hips up. Gabe turns his head and presses his lips against Tyson’s arm. 

“Come on,” Gabe tells him, voice low, as the heat in his stomach starts to build. He presses his fingers into Tyson’s side. Tyson kisses him again, a sloppy, open-mouthed press of lips, his tongue flicking out and over Gabe’s. “Can you - Jesus, touch me,” he manages, and Tyson shifts his weight and wraps a hand around Gabe’s dick. It only takes a few strokes before Gabe tenses up, curses under his breath and brokenly says Tyson’s name, and comes. 

“Shit,” Tyson says, wiping his hand off on the sheets and stilling. “Are you - ”

Gabe leans up and kisses him, shudders a little when Tyson starts rolling his hips into him again, and lets Tyson collapse onto his chest when he finishes, totally spent. 

“Holy fuck,” Tyson says after a minute, voice muffled by one of Gabe’s pecs. His breath tickles a little, and Gabe huffs out a laugh, runs a hand through Tyson’s hair.

“I know.”

Tyson lifts his head up and looks at Gabe accusingly. “I can’t believe you didn’t make a move sooner.”

“Me?” Gabe says indignantly. “What about you?!”

Tyson shrugs, kisses Gabe’s chest. “You seemed to have a plan. I’m just saying, now that we know it’s that good, it’s too bad that we haven’t been fucking for awhile already.”

“So sweet,” Gabe grumbles, but he feels all warm. Tyson grins at him, and Gabe feels the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile. “I was trying to romance you, Jesus.”

“I know you were,” Tyson says matter of factly. “That’s why I like you.” He smiles again, and then his expression gets uncharacteristically genuine, eyes soft. “It means a lot, Gabe. I’m glad you did it.”

“Me too,” Gabe tells him, and Tyson kisses him again, a gentle, slow press of lips and tongues and he finds Gabe’s hand and holds it. When Tyson pulls back, Gabe smiles at him. “Hey. Merry Christmas, Tys.”

Tyson bites the end of his nose and then kisses it. “Merry Christmas, Gabe.”


End file.
